


Making Up is Hard to Do

by clgfanfic



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:05:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair wants to run</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Up is Hard to Do

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Mating Rituals #4 under the pen name Diamond.

I took one last look around the loft, then headed into my old bedroom.  Walking to the bed I hadn't used in longer than I could really remember, I reached down and grabbed the handles of my duffle-bag.  I never thought it would end like this.

I laughed, the sound harsh in my ears.  I guess I had no one to blame by myself. Not that I _planned_ on getting myself killed.

If I never met another female sentinel, it would still be too damned soon.

Hefting the heavy bag, I started back for the front door.  I wanted to get out of the loft before Jim got home.  I hate fighting with him, and I knew that's what would happen if he found me there.

I headed out, thinking that I was free, but there he was.  Jim caught me halfway down the stairs to the parking lot.  He was carrying a file folder in one hand. What was inside, I had no clue.  Right then I didn't really care either.

Jim still looked pretty bad, the aftermath of his fight with Alex visible in the fading bruises and healing cuts on his face.  He wasn't looking at me.

"Hey," he said softly as he passed me.

Three steps further on I stopped and turned, catching Jim on the top step.  "You okay?" I asked.

Jim stopped as well, looking back over his shoulder.  "Yeah, I'll be fine, Chief," he replied, offering me a thin, sad smile.

I nodded, then turned and completed my climb down the stairs.  Stepping onto the sidewalk leading to the parking lot it struck me that I really had nowhere to go.  I paused, considering my next move.  I had friends, lots of them, but did I really want to show up on any of their doorsteps, my duffel in hand, looking for a place to crash until I could find an apartment?  No.

I took a deep breath and walked over to my car and tossed the duffel into the passenger seat.  The trunk and backseat was both crammed full of boxes – books, mostly, and all the articles I'd copied.  I slipped in behind the wheel and just sat there, the car keys in my hand.  "Damn it," I sighed softly.

I had to go back.

Jim was my best friend, my lover of Christ's sake.  But he'd been pushing me away ever since Alex had showed up and I was damned tired of it.  It was like I was suddenly back to those first few weeks after we'd met.  Okay, to sum it all up, it was like we were strangers again.

And what really pissed me off was that he acted like I was supposed to accept that without question; that I was supposed to let everything we'd worked so hard for just fall by the wayside.  But I'm not built like that!

With another long, heavy sigh, I climbed back out of the car.  I pressed the doorlock switch and slammed the door shut.  Shaking my head, I started back to the loft.  One way or the other Jim was going to know that I was hurting; that I didn't want it to end like this.  And I really didn't give a damn it he wanted to hear it or not.  This time, he was going to listen.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

When I got back to the door I found it slightly ajar.  I didn't know if Jim had left it open just in case I came back, of if he'd simply forgotten to close it all the way.  That kind of bothered me.  It was just another mixed-message that I had to try and decipher and I was tired of it.  I pushed the door open.

Jim was sitting on the couch.  I watched him open the file folder that was sitting on his lap.  With purposeful motions he looked through the pages or whatever it was inside the file.  I couldn't see the content from where I stood in the doorway.

His head dipped and I saw his shoulders rise and fall as he sighed heavily.  Then he ran his hands over his hair and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling.  I could tell he was hurting, but so was I.  Why couldn't he see that?  Why did I have to do all the feeling for both of us?

"You planning on standing there all day, Chief?" he finally asked softly, his tone deadly neutral.  I really, really hate that tone, but I'd gotten used to it by that time.

I stepped inside and shut the door.  I wasn't at all sure that was a good idea, but I had to try to make my peace, especially if he wasn't going to.  Jim's always been one of those stoic macho-types.  Getting him to talk about his feelings is like trying to get a mule to tap dance.

I walked over to one of the overstuffed chairs and sat down.  I couldn't meet Jim's eyes.  He looked tired and sad.  Hell, so did I, but I was willing to try, so why wasn't he?  And why the hell was I feeling guilty about leaving when he was treating me like shit?  Man, love is a really screwy emotion.

"Thought you were moving out," he said softly, staring at the floor.

I shrugged.  "Guess I am.  You haven't really given me much of a reason to stick around.  I told you when I first moved it here, I don't want to get in your way. I only wanted to help you."

Jim lifted his head, tilting his chin to meet my gaze.  His blue eyes were hard. "And you think walking out of my life is going to help me, Chief?"

The way he said it made me feel like I was the one who was hurting him.  To be honest, it felt like he'd slapped me.  I tsked my tongue against my front teeth to keep from saying something I really shouldn't, but I couldn't stop my jaw from twitching with irritation.

"No," I said, "but you've made it more than plain that that's what you wanted me to do, Jim.  You're the one who's been pushing me out," I said.  What did I think I was doing?  There was no talking _with_ Jim, only talking at him.  He only listens when he wants to.  I stood and headed back toward the door. But before I reached it Jim's voice stopped me.

"Blair, wait, I'm sorry."

I turned, looking back at him.  Jim Ellison rarely apologizes – to anyone.  His shoulders sagged and his gaze was imploring.  I thought to myself – he really wants to talk, but what am I supposed to say so he will?  Still, I love the damned man, so I had to try.

With a slight nod, I walked back and sat down on the chair again.  "Look, Jim," I said, "give me a reason, give me something – anything – and I'll stay.  But you can't keep me at arm's length all the time, not after what we've built.  If you don't love me anymore, just say so.  I can live with that.  But I can't live with the iceman."

Jim snorted, a sardonic smile flashing across his face.  "How nice for you."

I wanted to stand up and deck the bastard, but I couldn't.  I could see the pain in his eyes – the pain he was trying so hard not to feel, or to talk about; the pain that was forcing me out of the loft.

"I didn't say it'd be easy, Jim," I replied softly, my voice breaking.  "Damn it, you know I love you," I snapped.  "Did you hear that?  I love you.  I want to stay.  But I can't stand being treated like a freakin' leper!"

Jim met my eyes for several long moments, then he said, "You don't get it, do you.  You're supposed to be so damned smart, and you just don't get it. "

I leaned back and sighed.  "Okay, so I don't get it.  Fine.  Explain it to me, Jim.  Tell me what the hell's going on with you – with us."  I leaned forward again.  "I want to understand.  That ought to count for something."

Instead of talking, Jim handed me the file folder.

I opened the cover and found a police report.  I skimmed it.  It was an incident report from the day Alex had killed me.  I think the thing that struck me most as I went back and read the damned thing from beginning to end was the cold, matter-of-fact way Jim described the whole thing.  It was like he was talking about a complete stranger, certainly not his lover.

When I reached the last period, I looked up.  "Yeah, so?" I asked, my tone razor-edged.  "I was there, remember?"

Jim's expression didn't change.  "Keep going, Chief.  There's more."

I glared at him for a moment, then turned the last page of the report to see what else could be in the folder.  What I saw froze the anger burning in my belly.  Photos.

I swallowed hard and really started at the first one.  Me lying on the ground, Jim holding me, cradling me, really.  The expression on his face was pure anguish.  I'd never seen anything even remotely like it – not even when Incacha had died.  I must have been dead at that point.

My hands were trembling slightly as I turned the photo over to see what was next.  Another photo.  I was lying on the ground this time, paramedics working over me. Jim was standing now, Simon holding him back so he would be in the way of the paramedics.  The same anguish was still trapped on his face.

There were more photos, all of them the same – me on the ground, Jim looking like someone had just cut the heart and soul out of him.  I looked up.  "I don't understand."

Jim shook his head.  I think he was disappointed.  "What do you see, Chief?"

I looked back down at the folder and flipped through the photos.  "Me, dead, you, upset…  Simon–"

"Damn it, Blair, what do you see?" he demanded his voice tight and pain-filled.

"What?" I countered.  "What do you want, Jim?"

He didn't say a word, just stared at me.  So, all right, sometimes it's hard for me to talk about my feelings, too.  "All right," I snapped at him, "I see your pain, all right?  But what does that–?"

Jim stood, his eyes flashing.  "That wasn't pain, Blair.  That was agony!  That was– That was– That was feeling my heart being torn out of my chest!  All the love, the joy was ripped right out of me!  You were _dead!_   I heard your heart stop! I heard your last breath!"

"Hey, man, you think I _wanted_ to die?" I yelled back.  "You think I did that just to hurt you?  Like I had a freakin' _choice_ about any of it?"

Jim jerked like I'd slapped him – hard.  He opened his mouth to argue with me, then closed it again as my words sank in.  His head dipped.  "No," he said softly, shoving his hands into his pockets.  "I never thought you died on purpose."

"Then why can't you just tell me what's wrong?" I asked, handing back the folder.

He sat down, the report in his lap.  He opened it and turned to the picture where he was holding me in his arms, staring at it as he said, "You were my lifeline. You were the first really right thing that had ever happened to me.  And I got you killed."

" _Got_ me killed?  Jim, Alex killed me, not you."

Jim smiled shakily.  "Same difference, Chief.  I was out of control.  I couldn't protect you.  I–"

"Damn it, Jim, how many times do I have to say it?  I _don't_ need your protection!  What I _do_ need is your friendship, your love…  And your respect.  That's all I've ever wanted, or needed."

"But this was different," he argued.  "She was a sentinel.  I should've–"

"Jim, we can't live our lives on the 'should have been's.  It just don't work that way.  Look, if it helps you any, I _never_ blamed you for what happened.  For how you treated me, yes, but not for what happened."

"I know," he replied.  "Maybe it would've helped if you had."

I shook my head.  "No, it wouldn't.  Trust me, I know.  We both did the best we could.  There's nothing more you can do after that."

Jim shook his head his eyes filling with unshed tears.  "You scared me," he whispered.

"Yeah, I know," I said, my voice softening.  "But if you're punishing me for that–"

"Maybe I am," Jim interrupted, still staring at that photo.

I got up and walked over to sit down next to him.  I reached out and took the folder.  I closed it and set it on the coffee table.  "Well, stop.  I didn't mean to hurt you.  I didn't mean to die.  It wasn't on my list of things to do that day – get myself killed so I can make Jim hurt."

"I can't," he whispered.  "I can't stop hurting you, and I don't know why.  But I can't let you go either.  I can't."

"Jim, look, I know your track record when it comes to relationships isn't something to brag about."

He glanced at me, eyes flashing.  "And yours is?"

I grimaced.  "Point taken, but hear me out, all right?"

Jim nodded.

"Okay, when I was fourteen Naomi promised me that we'd settle down for a while so I could go to high school like a normal kid."

"Chief, this–"

"Just hear me out, damn it.  You don't _listen_ to me," I interrupted.  When he nodded again, I continued, "Okay, just before the end of the school year she told me we were moving again.  I was so mad I can't begin to tell you.  I'd made friends. I had a date for the prom.  I was finally getting to be a normal kid and I was going to have to leave it all behind – again.  For a while, I hated her, really hated her.  I really did."

"No, you didn't," Jim corrected.  "You were just mad."

"You bet I was mad, and so were you, Jim.  You were mad at me for dying."

"But–"

"Look, it's a natural reaction.  I got over it, but I gave her the cold shoulder treatment for almost a month.  Okay, so maybe that's what you're doing, too."

"It's not that," Jim said, his voice just above a whisper.

"Then tell me!  _Talk_ to me!"

Jim swallowed several times, then he nodded.  "Yes, I was mad – at you, at Alex, at myself.  But that went away.  When I was sitting there by your bed in the hospital–"  His voice caught and he had to stop.  When he could speak past the lump in his throat he continued, "I've never felt so helpless, so alone... vulnerable.  It was like everything I'd worked for, everything that was finally right in my life was being taken away from me.  I was scared and I was alone."

I started to say that he wasn't alone, but he held up his hand and I nodded, letting him know that I'd hear him out before I said anything.

"At the same time, I knew I'd done something that would make us even closer than we'd been before," Jim said.

"That thing with our spirit animals?"  So much for waiting.

He nodded.  "At that moment, when my animal passed through yours, it was like I was inside your skin.  I felt your… soul, I guess."  He looked up at me, waiting for a sign of disgust or anger.  He found none.  "Blair, you have to know that I love you, don't you?"

"I know," I admitted.  I was mad, but I knew that much.  "But you couldn't prove it, the way you've shut me out."

"I had to," Jim argued.  "Don't you see?  I loved you before you died, but after that–"

"What?"

Jim huffed a couple of times, trying to work himself up to saying what he wanted to.  "I loved you before, but after you died it was like you were my whole world.  There wasn't a single thing you weren't part of anymore."  He looked up, meeting my eyes.  "Blair, you're a part of me now.  It was like my feelings for you exploded into something so much bigger than anything I've ever imagined was possible.  It scared me.  What if I lost you now?  How could I live with that?  How could I–?"

"Jim," I interrupted, "are you actually trying to say that you love me so much you couldn't love me any more?

He paused a moment, then nodded.  "I know that sounds crazy, but you weren't there.  I mean, you were, but– When you died–"

"But why do you think that pushing me away will help?"

Jim leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.  "Police work isn't exactly the safest line of work, Chief."

I snorted.  "Tell me about it."

He took a long, deep breath, then said, "Okay, I _did_ think you'd be safer if you weren't tagging along with me all the time."

I shook my head.  "Jim, I could get killed _anywhere_."

His eyes flashed.  "You don't think I know that?"

I felt myself blush and I grinned in spite of myself.  "Well, okay, I know you know that.  But, damn it, Jim, this is _my_ life, you know.  It's _my_ choice _how_ I spend it, and with whom I spend it.  And I want to live my life with _you_ , for however long I've got."

He shook his head.  "But I can't lose you again.  I can't."

" _If_ that should happen, and I'm not saying that it will or it won't, but if it should, you'd survive."

"I don't think so," Jim replied, shaking his head.  "I know one thing for sure, thought, if it did happen, I wouldn't want to survive."

I shook my head.  "That's not up to us to decide.  Look, I'm not the most… spiritual person around, but I really do believe that we're all here for a reason.  And I think we're supposed to go through good times and bad times in our lives.  They both teach us things.  I'm not saying that it's easy, but it's the way things are.  I truly believe that if we check out early we sort of defeat the purpose for being here. And I believe that we planned this life out before we got here.  And I hope we'll have a lot more lives that we'll be able to share."

"You really believe that?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Sounds like something Naomi would say."

I grinned.  "Yeah, I know, it is kind of New Age-y, but I really believe that we've lived lives together in the past and that we'll live more together in the future. But if you–  If you mess with the plan, man, then who knows what kind of stuff we'd have to work out before we can be happy again."

Jim shook his head, looking skeptical.  "Are you taking karma?"

I shrugged.  "I don't know.  Maybe there's a master plan.  Maybe there's master planner.  I just know I believe that life's sacred.  We shouldn't throw it away."

Jim met my eyes, his own full of tears.  "That apply to relationships, too?"

I nodded.  "Yeah, that too.  Please, Jim, don't throw away what we had – what we _have_."

He didn't look convinced.  "I just don't know if I can do this.  I'm scared all the time."

"Scared of what?"

"Of losing you again."

"So you're not willing to try?  You'll just throw away what we have?  You'll throw _me_ away?"

A flash of anger crossed his face.  "I didn't say–"

"Well, yeah.  I guess that's the easy way," I concluded.  "I'm sure you'd be happy to get back to dating."

"That's crap!"

"Is it?"

I wiped my hand over my eyes, brushing away the tears.  "Fine.  You're scared so I have to go.  Fine.  You think it's going to be easy for me to start over?  To leave behind what we've built here?  This was my first real home, Jim.  You were the first person besides Naomi I ever really opened up with.  Hell, you were the first man I ever fell in love with, and the first anyone or anything I ever wanted to spend my life with."

"Blair–"

"But hey, that's okay.  Jim Ellison's decided he can't handle the commitment, so – pow! – I'm back out on my own.  Okay, fine.  I'll deal.  I've been there before.  No big deal.  I've got friends.  I'll be just fine."

"Blair–"

I stood, looking down at him.  "You think you're the only one who's scared, Jim?  You think you're the only one who can hurt, who can feel like his heart's getting ripped out?  You look at that picture, man, then you look at my face and tell me I don't know what you were feeling!"

I stopped when I couldn't force any more words past the knot of pain and anger blocking my throat.  Jim stood and reached out to me, but I couldn't handle it.  I backed away, shaking my head.

"Blair, I don't want to hurt you, but I don't want–"

"What?" I demanded, my voice raw and wounded.  "You don't want me to get killed so you're pushing me out of your life?  You don't want me to get killed, but you don't care if I feel like I'm dying?"

Jim paused a moment, the muscles along his jaw jumping, then he said softly, "You're right."

I looked away.  Maybe I understood what Jim was talking about better than he realized.  Maybe I was a hypocrite.  But at that moment, **I** wasn't at all sure I could live without Jim in my life.

"You're right," he repeated.

"About what," I managed, turning back to face him.  If I was going to do this, I was going to do it face-to-face, not like a coward.

Jim shook his head.  "I'm being selfish.  I was only thinking about how bad it hurt me when I lost you."

"And you didn't think about how it hurts me to lose you?" I asked, letting the tears break over and run down my face.  I wasn't embarrassed by them.  I loved him and if he needed to see me cry to understand that, then so be it.

Jim walked over to me, and, reaching out, he rested his hands on my shoulders. "I don't want to lose you, Blair.  And I don't want to hurt you.  So what do I do?"

"Maybe," I replied, "we just do our best.  Maybe we just hope for the best and live every day we have together like it was the last."

"But I'm so scared," he whispered.

"Me too, Jim, me too."

He pulled me into a hug and I held on tight, thinking, maybe, just maybe if I didn't let go everything would be okay.  I didn't want to lose him.  I loved him, and I wanted him to love me, but if loving me meant he had to push me away, I was stuck.

"Please, Jim," I whispered into the flannel of his shirt.  "Please don't send me away.  I don't know if I could live with that."

I felt his arms tighten around me.

"Please," I whispered again, the tears reasserting themselves.

"Shh," he soothed.  "I might be scared," he replied, "but you know I'd never hurt you like this on purpose."

"Making me go hurts, Jim.  It hurts a lot," I managed before a sob choked me.

"Damn it, Blair, I don't want you to go, okay?  Do you hear me?  I want you to stay.  We'll find a way through this – together.  Okay?"

The blood drained from my head, leaving me lightheaded and weak-kneed.  The room started to spin and I closed his eyes.

"Blair?" he asked, supporting more of my weight.  "Blair, are you all right?"

His voice was sounding a little panicked, so I forced myself to say, "It's okay. I'm just a little light-headed."

The next thing I knew he'd picked me up.  I was starting to shake.  It was like someone had dipped me in ice-water.  I was freezing!

Jim carried me up the stairs to "our" bedroom.  He sat me down on the edge of the bed and looked me over.  I could tell my face was pale, and there was sweat beaded on my upper lip.  My muscles were all quaking like I'd tried to run a marathon after fasting for a week.

Jim sat down next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.  Feeling the heat from his body I realized that my teeth were chattering.  "I'm c-cold," I said softly, wishing the room would stop moving.

"Emotional shock," he said.  "Happened to me when I got to the hospital."

Jim scooted closer, brushing my lips with his own.  My eyes immediately closed and I moaned.  He shifted, his arms snaking around my sides and pulling me closer.  He deepened the kiss and I felt my breath catch in the back of my throat.

Feeling his teasing tongue, I parted my lips, allowing Jim inside my mouth.  He was gentle, caressing.  I held on to him, silently praying to whatever gods were listening for the nightmare to finally be over.  I wanted my life back.  I wanted _our_ life back.  And by God I wasn't going to let that bitch destroy us.  I kissed him back, my mouth demanding.

"Easy," Jim said breathlessly.  "Easy.  Let me love you.  Let me show you how I really feel.  Please.  I can't say the words, but I can show you."

I nodded, too astonished to reply.

Jim stood and scooped me up again, moving me to the center of the bed.  Without a word he stripped out of his clothes, then removed mine.  His touch was gentle, loving.  When we were both naked he took two extra blankets from the closet and covered me.  That done, he lay down beside me and pulled me into another long, exploring kiss.  The icy coldness began to fade and my chills stopped.

One of his hands searched under the covers, finally wrapping around my cock, sending hot sparks of pleasure exploding through my body, thawing the rest of the cold.

"What do you want, Chief?" he asked in a choked whisper.  It had been a long, long time since he'd asked me that.

"Inside me," I replied, my tone almost pleading.

"Turn over," Jim directed.

I did what he'd asked, the thought of what was to come making me even harder. I heard Jim reach into the nightstand for the astroglide and the condoms.  But he didn't jump right in.  Instead I felt his hands on my back, rubbing softly, scratching, caressing. I fell into the welcome sensations, trying to let go of my own fear.  What if he changed his mind?  What if he couldn't let go himself?

"Easy," he cooed.  "I promise you, we'll get through this."

I took a deep breath and forced myself to relax.  I let the truth in his touch melt the grip the fear had on my heart.  I moaned into the pillow.

The next moment a lube-coated finger poked against my puckered hole.  I pressed back just slightly, inviting him inside me.

Jim sighed as he slipped a single finger into my chute, sinking it up to the third joint.  He wiggled his finger, sending waves of tantalizing sensations washing over me.  "Oh, yes," I breathed.

After a moment the single finger was withdrawn, only to be replaced by two.

"That feels… so good," I moaned.

"It's been a while," Jim said, his voice thick with emotion and need.

"Too long, love, too long."

He worked carefully and slowly, stretching my tight muscles until they were finally loose.  I closed my eyes, pressed my forehead into the pillow, and moved my hips in small, tight circles.

Jim used his free hand to cradle my balls, rolling them in his palm.

"Easy, Jim," I cautioned.  "It's been so long, I don't have much control."

He stopped playing with my sack, then withdrew his fingers a second time.  I heard him slip a condom on, then take the astroglide, rubbing it over his erection and then my ass.

"I need to see your face," Jim whispered into my ear.

I turned over onto my back and raised my legs into the air.  Jim maneuvered between my thighs.

"Hurry," I urged.

Jim lifted me up, then slowly eased his thick tool into my well-prepared ass.  I grimaced, and he stopped, waiting for me to adjust to his presence.

When I lowered my legs, draping them over his shoulders, Jim pressed the rest of the way in.  "God, Blair, you're so tight… so hot," he hissed, grinding his teeth together to keep from shooting his load right then.

"Feels so good," I replied.  "Do it."

Jim began to move, gliding in and out in long, slow thrusts.  I closed my eyes again and tossed my head from side to side.  I couldn't reach him, so I reached up and squeezed my own nipples.

He groaned, low and deep.  "God yesss," he growled, squeezing the muscles in his butt and driving his hips forward harder and faster, impaling himself over and over again inside of me.

And I met each thrust, enjoying the feel of Jim's heavy balls slapping against my ass.

Before long Jim was shoving in all the way up to his balls, then pulling out until only the very tip of his crown remained inside of me.  Our bodies gleamed with sweat, trickles of it running down our faces.  We both breathed hard and groaned softly.

Supporting himself on one arm, Jim finally reached down and took hold of my stiff tool, pulling it in time with the rhythm his hips were setting.  Then he reached in and squeezed my balls, making me groan, half in pleasure, half in glorious pain.

I knew he was getting close, and he skewered me faster and faster.  When his balls pulled up tight, he gave one last, mighty thrust, embedding himself to the very root of his cock.  I felt him start to shudder, his fingers tightening almost painfully on my balls.  Then he cried out, and I could feel him pumping his load into the condom.  I ground my hips against Jim's groin and clenched my butt muscles over and over, milking him dry.

Lost in the pure pleasure of his release, Jim was still able to grab my. rock-hard cock.  He pulled and squeezed, pushing me over the edge.  My load gushed out, one squirt after another, splattering against Jim's chest.  He reached in, squeezing my balls to drain every drop out of them.

When my shudderings decreased and finally stopped, he slowly pulled out his softening cock, crawled out from between my legs, and collapsed on the bed next to me.

I stretched my legs out, my ass sore but still tingling with pleasure.  "That was good, Jim," I panted.  "Very, _very_ good."

He chuckled.  "I can't complain either, Chief.  But we need to wash up, water the snakes."

I nodded, no longer cold.  I looked around.  The blankets were on the floor.  How or where they got there, I didn't know.

Jim helped me off the bed and held my hand while we walked down the stairs and to the bathroom.  In the shower he washed me from head to toe.  And I let him, basking in the pure pleasure of his touch.  We dressed, neither of us saying much of anything.

Back in the living room, we sat on the couch, Jim sipping on a beer, me on a cup of hot tea.

"So you're not leaving, right?" Jim asked.

I shook my head.  "No."

"Good," he replied.  "So we better go bring in your stuff."

"Later," I replied.

Jim grinned playfully.  "Later?  Why not right now?"

I blushed.  "I've got other plans for right now."

"Plans?"

"Plans," I repeated, setting my cup down on a coaster on the coffee table and leaning in to claim Jim's lips.  We'd weathered our biggest storm ever, and we'd survived.  It might not always be easy, but we'd see whatever other obstacles life tossed our way through together.  Of that I was sure.  And I was right.

I kissed him hard, my hands reaching for him again…


End file.
